


Spilled Perfume

by hauntedlittledoll



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedlittledoll/pseuds/hauntedlittledoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian’s family tree has always been complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spilled Perfume

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the 30_Disasters prompt list on livejournal. Preboot!backstory.

The scent of jasmine is almost overpowering as Damian approaches his mother’s quarters.  He automatically covers his nose and mouth with a handkerchief; jasmine is a natural sedative, and his mother’s special blend enhances the mild effects.

The scent always lingers on his mother’s skin, but only in trace amounts to calm and influence her surroundings.  This is too much—Mother would never make such wanton use of the stuff.

The eight year old hesitates at the doorway a moment.

This is his home now, and Mother says that he belongs here.  He swings open the door wide.

The scent is explained by the smashed bottle on the floor, the puddle growing to saturate a nearby rug.  Most of Mother’s fine things have been pushed to the side of her dressing table.  A string of pearls has been broken and the delicate orbs litter the perfume drenched floor.

Mother stands in the center of the room with her back to Damian.  Her long hair has been shorn short, and the beautiful clothes of fabric soft to the touch are replaced with the common black of an average assassin.

“Mother?”

“Damian,” his name sounds strange on Mother’s tongue, like she was testing it out for the first time.  “Damian,” she laughs, reaching out for him.  “My, how you have grown, habibi,” Mother teases him lightly, tossing him gently in the air as a playful gesture.

Damian throws his arms around the woman’s neck instinctively, and Mother grows solemn, pressing her lips to his forehead.  “My Heir, my Love, my Son,” she whispers.

“Ibn al Xu’ffasch?” Damian whispers back; Mother liked that title.

“No son of the Bat,” she disagrees now, “but Son of the Demon.  I shall be both Mother and Father to you, Damian.  I will train you in the ways of men, and the world will one day be yours my child.”

It is close enough to what his Mother had promised that Damian allows the world to shift as Ra’s al Ghul carries him from the woman’s former rooms.


End file.
